suspended
by Remi G. Craeg
Summary: "...her heart is racing because she's caught between their moment and her job and it's all she can do to step far enough away that her badge won't fumble out of fingers when she thrusts it into public."


"This is your fault you know."

"How could you possibly come to that conclusion?"

"You're the one that backed into Esposito with the cruiser."

"I didn't back into him…he was standing in the…I didn't—"

"Your," she pokes him hard in the chest, "fault."

"So you're telling me you'd be doing this with him right now if I hadn't…" He drops her hand to draw over-dramatic air quotes for her and says, "Backed into him?"

"Probably."

"'Probably?'"

"Yeah, Castle. Some of us can be professionals."

He squeaks, gestures a circle around his face like,_ I can be professional_.

She props up an eyebrow.

And then Ryan's in her ear saying, "You ID him yet?"

"Room's a little crowded, give us a few minutes."

"Uni's said they saw him head inside over twenty minutes ago…"

"I heard you the first time."

"Maybe he stopped to pee," Castle offers.

Beckett rolls her eyes, instantly regretting giving him an earwig. At the time it seemed like the lesser evil to listening to him whine for the duration of this little shindig. But hindsight and all of that.

"Should I go check the men's room?"

She twists back to him, shakes her head. "No. He'll come out eventually."

"Yeah, but I could do some recon while I'm in there. See what I can suss out."

"'Suss out?' Really, Castle?"

His shoulders bounce. "Yeah."

"We're investigating a murder. Gathering intel."

"That's what I said!"

"Get a room already."

In unison they say, "Shut up, Ryan."

Beckett takes a long drag of her tonic, scans the room for their contact. Pulls Castle close enough that she can smell aftershave and the whiskey evaporating off his lips.

He grunts when she snakes a leg between his. "Easy," he says.

"Relax."

He whispers right against her ear. "Not a chance."

Her fingers are cold and wet with condensation when she runs them along a sideburn. Up to trace the outer ridge of his ear. "You've got the west corridor. Remember Ryan's only got eyes on the south entrance."

Castle swallows hard. Forces out, "I remember."

She's back to scanning the ballroom. She lets this loose, lingering dance mask their surveillance. Lets him rest lips against her ear. Lets his hand stay where it is on her lower back.

Lets his fingers play with bare skin under the hem of her top.

He drags a palm along her forearm, from elbow to wrist. Takes her glass from her hand, sets it down on the closest table.

"Castle," she says. It's a warning.

"Relax, Beckett."

She's the one swallowing hard now. Tries to not make a noise or fall or let herself feel any of it. She's shivering and taking slow steps to the middle of the room and he's got her so close she can't see his face but she feels every breath he takes.

"Closer to the bathroom now," he says, a chuckle rumbling his chest. "We'll see him better from here."

She leans back a little, nods like she knew all along.

Castle slows them way down. Drags time to a suspended halt too. Puts his palm flush against her neck. For a terrifying moment Beckett's sure this is some sort of line they're crossing because he's pulling in so close that he's blurring at the edges. His breath like fire against her overheated skin.

She sucks in air he's discarding, having a lot of trouble processing the shape of him leaning into her.

At the last second he diverts to one side, catches her ear instead. Says, "He's right behind you."

And just like that the bubble's punctured by needling reality and her heart is racing because she's caught between their moment and her job and it's all she can do to step far enough away that her badge won't fumble out of fingers when she thrusts it into public.

* * *

It's another forty minutes before they get the information they need. Took an improvised interrogation room in the back and the general threat of show-of-force to get it, but she'll take a win where she can.

"It's ironic, isn't it?"

She shrinks her eyebrows. "What is?"

"The fact that _I_ was the professional one in that transaction."

"How could you possibly come to that conclusion?"

Castle smiles wide, pulls at her elbow so she's facing him directly. "You were pretty into the charade, Beckett."

"No, I was perfectly—"

"He walked right by you."

"I didn't get a good look."

"Right," he says, drops her arm, turns to leave. Throws back, "And it is pretty dark in here?"


End file.
